


Hinder

by demonsushi01



Series: Stoneheart: Side Stories [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dissociation, F/M, POV Second Person, mild panic attack, shiro is a king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsushi01/pseuds/demonsushi01
Summary: hind·er - /ˈhindər/verbcreate difficulties for (someone or something), resulting in delay or obstruction.--Side story for Stoneheart, told from Shiro's perspective of the events from Chapter 18, do recommend reading that before reading this.
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Stoneheart: Side Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580962
Kudos: 20





	Hinder

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stoneheart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467529) by [demonsushi01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsushi01/pseuds/demonsushi01). 



> Hey-o!  
> Merry Xmas ya hooligans  
> And in the Christmas spirit have some insight from other characters from Stoneheart! I know yall will be with your families perhaps and might need something to do while you wait for dinner or have as a buffer
> 
> We have a slice from Shiro's perspective from Chapter 18, it would be wise to read it so you know what's going on here.
> 
> Shiro does have a mild panic attack and some dissociation, tread lightly

As the King of Daibazaal, you’ve had to deal with your fair share of horror stories of your people. You know how history casts shadows on you, especially over the ancient capital city of Marmora, where the castle sits. The grounds themselves are as tainted with the acts of violence, bloodshed, flames, and bitterness in ways that greatly exceed the rest of the country. It’s almost as if there’s some magnetic force that brings it to your home and it’s simply beyond your realm of understanding, to say the least.

You, however, want to make changes. Your grandparents’ union brought the end of the third attempt for the so-called “Galran Empire”. While this most recent attempt was unlike the two prior instances, far more subtle and gentle, you and your family know it for what it was. The common citizens were probably none the wiser. And when it ended, they certainly didn’t notice the shifts in policies. 

Your parents after them continued to bring about this positive change. They were making things more kind, more just. Yet, sadly, they will never see the fruits of their labors. 

“Do we only plant the seeds for our future?” You glance over to Ulaz as you wait for another set of squabbling neighbors to approach you for your judgement.

“Pardon, sir?”

“We plant the seeds, care for the crops, but never see what becomes of the harvest. The acts my parents put in place are seeing light due to me, blooming with my care now that they’re gone. Will the laws, the choices, I make within my life only see it’s full effect under my children’s will?” The neighbors can’t stop bickering enough to approach you. 

“Perhaps. Some things we have full control over, but some things are left for future generations. All we can hope for is that we’ve given them a solid base to work with,” Ulaz hums and looks at the pair. “Is there something on your mind, Your Majesty?” 

“A lot of things really.” You give him a tired look before turning to face the duo and then out to the small crowd of people here to witness it all.

You want to be good for these people. You want to sink your hands into the dark stains that coat them and pull it out. Free them from the judgement of others based on their heritage, of the shadows that will bite their ankles for their lives because of their birthright. You want to correct the wrongs that have been passed to you by your family to fix if nothing else to make the load easier on those who come after you.

It’s easier said than done you suppose, as you pinch the bridge of your nose, still waiting for the case to be presented. You hear a member of your house staff approach, whisper softly to Ulaz and disappear once more when he nods. He leans down to you.

“It seems there’s an urgent case I am needed for. One of the students fell ill.” He whispers. You nod and give him a soft wave. 

“I can handle this.” You whisper back. He bows something slight to keep the attention off him before slipping out of your sight.

You wonder who got sick. If they’re alright. You want to frown but you keep it off your face. Another set of bickering people tries to cut in front of the others, causing quite a ruckus.  _ Ridiculous _ , you groan internally. The side door is suddenly thrown open, a hush quickly falling over the room. When you look, you see Allura striding towards you quickly with fear in her eyes that you hate to see. 

She curtsies deeply in front of your throne, one hand clenched around her skirts and drawing them out to her side, the other outstretched towards you above her head almost in offering.  _ Altean bows are strange,  _ you think to yourself. You know the concept is to show she’s unarmed with her empty hand and unable to fight you with her heavy skirts, but you also know if needed she could make herself dangerous regardless. 

Quite a contrast to the bows, fists over hearts to show their loyalties, that you’re used to seeing. 

“I am deeply sorry to interrupt your court, Your Majesty.” Her voice is reed-thin, nearly brittle. You find your shoulders tensing immediately, and you’re made painfully aware that  _ Lance _ is the student.

“What have you come for?” You ask her, the words stiff and awkward on your tongue. It’s the sake of formality, you remind yourself. It  _ is _ court after all, and you’re letting her at least get away with jumping in front of the others.

“My cousin --” Is all she gets out before you’re on your feet and calling for the court to be adjourned for the day. You inform them of when court will resume and have your guards help dismiss the others. 

When the room is emptied out you step down to Allura. She hasn’t moved, you’re not quite sure the proper verbiage in Altean to break it either. Instead, you reach out, cupping her jaw in your hand and tilting her face up so she can look at you. 

“What happened?” You ask. No matter how you two might be fighting, you don’t want to see this frightened look on her face. 

“Lance apparently fell ill and had to be carried to his bedchambers.” She stands up fully, hands falling to her sides. 

“He did sound like he had a bad throat not too long ago.” You recall his voice, scratchy and strained when he had lunch with you. “Ulaz is with him now, he’s in good hands. That I can assure you of.” You tell her, taking one of her hands in yours. You run your thumb in what you hope is soothing circles across her knuckles. 

You wait for her to make another stinging remark about Ulaz and his Galran blood but it never comes. You allow yourself the minor victory, even if she still looks like she doesn't trust him.

“Next time he goes to check on him, I’ll go with. He wouldn’t dream of doing something to cross me.”

“I…” You watch one of her hands come up and play with her hair around her fingers. 

“If that’s what will bring you ease, I will not mind.” You tell her. “You could even join as well.” 

“No, I doubt that Ulaz would be happy with that many people hovering over Lance while he works. If -- ” She licks her lips, an action you should not find distracting the way you do. “If you trust him, then  _ I _ trust him.” She gives you a determined look. It’s far nicer on her than the fear from moments ago. A small shred of hope flutters against your ribs.

“He will come back and report to me when he’s done.” This is what you know for a fact. Any moment he spends that isn’t by your side or his husband’s he tells you every detail. Allura nods and then looks out at the empty room you two stand in.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your court.” She apologizes again. You huff a soft laugh through your nose. 

“No need to apologize. I swear if I had to listen to one more fight over which neighbor owns a hen’s eggs…” You roll your eyes and shake your head. She raises an eyebrow curiously.

“Wouldn’t it belong to who owned the hen?” 

“But it was the neighbor’s rooster who did the deed.” 

“How do they know?” She asks with a squint. You shrug your shoulders in response.

“Welcome to Stoneheart’s biggest issues,” You spread your arms wide and look up towards the heavens above. “Chickens.” Her laugh gets muffled by her hand, hiding her smile as well. Her eyes shine brightly though and you can see the crinkles by their corners. 

_ She will still look beautiful as she grows old _ , you realize, finding the ghosts of crow’s feet to be charming. A sign she has smiled and laughed a lot already in her young, twenty-eight years of life. You find yourself wondering what makes her smile the most. You take a step closer to her, the distance is already smaller than what would normally be allowed between you two. 

And the smaller space seems to have brought with it a sense of intimacy neither of the two of you expected, based on how her eyes widen.  _ A dangerous game this is, without a chaperon. _ It makes you wonder where both Coran and Romelle are right now. 

Her fingers twitch, restless, deciding before she reaches out and rests them on your arms. You can see the slight indent by her lip, most likely biting the inside of it. You can’t blame her, your tongue twists anxiously against your teeth. One of her hands shifts on your right arm, sliding up and resting on your shoulder as your left-hand finds itself settling around her waist. 

_ Too intimate _ , you think to yourself as your palm burns where it touches her. You need to say something, talk about something, to make this look less dangerous should her chaperons appear. You swallow, notice her eyes catch the movement before flicking up and lingering on your lips, then slowly dragging back to your eyes.  _ Dangerous _ , your mind screams. 

“I hope Lance will be okay.” Allura murmurs. You cling to the topic like a lifeline.

“Ulaz is a great medical officer. He’ll take care of Lance.” You whisper, not wanting to raise your voice higher than hers. 

“It’s unlike him to be the way he has been. So secretive.” She frowns. 

“Give him time, he’ll adjust.”  _ This is safe _ . 

“I’m worried about him. He really does lock himself up in that room of his and we hardly see him.” She steps closer to you, head coming to rest against your chest. Your heart beats rapidly, hammering away at your ribs. One of her hands drops down to rest over your sternum by her face.  _ Definitely too intimate _ . 

“And for him to be so sick? That pond must have really taken a toll on him.” Allura sighs, her breath fanning out against your neck.

“Does he have a weak immune system?” You ask. 

“No. He’s actually rather hardy. Last time a fever swept through the castle he was the only one who didn’t catch it.”

“Well he  _ is  _ in a strange place, under stress, and playing with his Quintessence. It’s bound to take a toll on him.” You know how sick Honerva would leave you after your lessons before it all ended. “He just needs to relax a bit, feel welcomed, and he’ll adjust.” 

“Do you think so?” She pulls back just enough to look at you. 

“That’s my theory at least. Ulaz will know for sure what he needs.” You offer her a reassuring smile. 

“Thank you.” She looks down at her hand still pressed against your chest. Your hand leaves her waist to cover it, press it a bit firmer against you before you pull it to your lips. 

“Of course,  _ my _ Princess.” You kiss her knuckles, and then offer her your arm. Allura tucks her hand in the crook of your left arm and you guide her out of the room. 

You pass Allura off to Romelle, who informs you of Lance’s condition. Ulaz has called it a fever and is working on remedies for it now. You thank her and leave the two to have their lunch and for Allura to write home. You rub your head once alone and find yourself making your way to your private chambers. 

Antok stops you before you can get there, slipping out of the shadows as if born from them himself. Silent. It takes you a moment to calm your heart back down while he apologizes for startling you. 

“Kolivan is here to take your measurements.” He informs you. “You need to be properly fitted for your armor.” 

“Of course.” You follow him out to the garrison where Kolivan is most likely waiting. 

The grounds are quiet, most of the knights with their squires are out training in the woods while Antok’s squadron remains to patrol the castle. A skeleton crew. It should have you nervous, fearful even, about what could happen to you. But you aren’t. 

Antok’s group is more alert than ever when they’re all who remain. Almost as if they have a sixth sense of the castle's defenses and when something tries to break through it. Perhaps they’re all sensitive to Quintessence. You wouldn’t know. You could never see their Quintessence. Though to be fair, you had a hard time seeing anyone’s besides Honerva’s and your own.

Kolivan is standing in front of his old armor, arms crossed behind his back as he looks it over. His face is as impassive as before, but at least the scar that splits his brow and cheek seems to have healed a bit better. His copper hair certainly seems to be more grey than before too, braided and coiled around his throat in a manner that you recall being honorable to a specific Galran tribe before Zarkon’s reign. It shows how long it’s been since he’s last failed in battle.

“Your Majesty.” He bows deeply to you when you approach.

“At ease, Kolivan.” You chuckle softly. 

“How have you been?” He asks as he gestures for you to follow him into one of the rooms. 

“As well as one can be.” You say, Antok follows right behind you.

“That sounds like you’ve been having some trouble.” Kolivan murmurs as he stops in front of the table with metal parts strewn about it.

“Honerva will be coming back.” You sigh. He flicks amber-colored eyes between you and Antok. 

“We’ve been preparing the best we can for her.” Antok whispers,  _ he’s always whispering _ , to reassure you both. __

“You know you can always say the word, Your Majesty, and I will come back without a moment’s hesitation,” Kolivan says. 

“Are you worried about Antok?” You tease stepping closer to the table to examine the metals. Kolivan doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to. You know he’s as worried about you as he is with Antok. 

The man in question steps over to his former captain, shoulders brushing together. Kolivan is a bit slimmer than Antok but has him beat by a single inch in height. You pretend you don’t notice the way Kolivan reaches out for the sash tied around Antok’s waist and runs it through his fingers, tutting softly at some of its more frayed edges. 

It too, is symbolic, albeit from a different tribe. The sash shows he’s been married, though you can’t recall what God was invoked to bear witness. You know Kolivan wears his sash wrapped around his arm, hidden under the sleeves of his shirts to protect it. Antok lets his be seen by everyone, and once told you the wear and tear on it is the same for a relationship. Some places patched over, some never quite the same as before, but still whole and one piece. 

You wonder what traditions your grandmother’s family before her followed, what little thing you would have to represent your heritage other than blood. You were too young to ask then and you’ve outlived those who could have told you by now. It’s a shame really. 

“I need to make sure the pieces I’ve made for your armor fit you,” Kolivan says, Antok’s sash slipping out of his fingers. 

“Of course.” You nod. He has Antok help him hold the pieces to your body. 

“Need to trim the chest plate down a bit… Pauldrons are fine…” Kolivan murmurs to himself. He pauses by one of the pieces, you recognize a gauntlet and vambrace but it’s put together strangely.

“Do you still make sparks, Your Majesty?” Kolivan asks, picking it up. It throws you off a bit that it’s one solid piece. 

“With my Quintessence?” 

“Yes.” He compares it next to your left arm instead of putting it on. 

“I try not to let it happen. Especially considering Prince Lance is sensitive.” You confess. Kolivan hums, moving the strange piece to your right. 

“May I roll up your sleeve?” 

“Is it another strange experiment of yours?” You ask him warily. Last time he poked your right arm it left you feeling the ghost of the missing limb for nearly a month. 

“It will not hurt.” He tells you. You reach over and unpin your sleeve allowing him to roll it up and expose the remains of your arm. With gentle hands, Kolivan slips the armor over it easily, securing it in place by twisting a knob. 

It feels like pins and needles where the metal meets flesh. You think the fingers twitch. It gives you a tight feeling in your chest as you can feel it want to tap and connect with your Quintessence. The fingers definitely twitch. 

“Please get it off.” You manage to choke out past your lips. Panic claws up your back. Honerva’s voice echoing something you can’t fully hear in the back of your mind. It’s off seconds after you ask. You rub your arm, trying to get rid of the feelings there. You barely manage to acknowledge Kolivan’s apology as he places the strange thing back where he got it. 

It’s hard to stay in your body after that. You know he finishes comparing pieces to your body. You know he tells you that it should all be ready for your wedding day. You know Antok helps guide you back to the castle, Ulaz catching up at some point. You’re aware they murmur to each other, probably explaining what’s going on with you as you finally make it to your private chambers. 

But none of it feels like you. It feels like someone else is moving your body and you’re stuck for the ride. And when  _ you _ try to make some movement, nothing happens. Your body sits on the bed, Ulaz closing the door behind him as Antok stands guard outside. 

“Look at me, Your Majesty,” Ulaz says, tone firm as he tilts your head to meet his gaze. You blink and try to keep your eyes on him and not the strange lack of color that should surround him.

“You are safe. No one is hurting you. Nod for me if you understand.” He says. You nod mechanically, you blink again. 

Ulaz walks you through the steps of connecting you back with your body. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted once it’s done. You want to sleep, but dinner waits for you. You have duties as a King and that means you have to attend dinner with your future wife, even if you’d much rather sleep for the next two days straight. 

He gives you his report on Lance’s health as you walk to the dining hall. You feel weighed down by the castle’s shadows. Perhaps the stains you remove from your people stick to your skin, to your soul, and one day you won’t be able to -- No. Stop. Think of something else.

“Lance will be fine then?” You ask.

“Just a fever. His exposure to the pond water and the cold weather seems to have compounded on his stress as of late.” Ulaz confirms your earlier theories. “He will be fine after some medicine and rest.” 

“That’s good to hear.” You say as you walk into the dining hall.

Allura and Romelle are already seated at the table, both sending you bright smiles. You hope you return one of the same quality to them. You take the head of the table, food being placed in front of you moments later. 

“Are you alright?” Allura asks you.

“Am now.” You cover it up with another charming smile and flirt. It’s easier to play the part of a young man in love than to expose the broken shards that lie behind the curtains.  _ One day, _ you remind yourself,  _ she’ll know. _

You talk amicably with the ladies, doing your best to keep your tone light as you eat. But even still, your exhaustion wears on you. You find yourself staring more and more at the wall in front of you. Ulaz casually nudges your side from where he stands next to you, keeping you from drifting out of your body again.

Allura tells a joke of some sort, it has Romelle laughing at least and so you huff something through your nose that you hope sounds like a laugh as well. Allura pouts but it melts into a smile easily. Especially when she turns to look at you. 

“You seem tired, Shiro.” She mentions. “Have you been sleeping well?” 

“It’s been a long day.” You tell her instead.  _ One day, one day, one day. _

“Are chickens truly the worst thing to have happened to Stoneheart?” Allura snorts.

“Absolutely.” You nod with a small smile. 

“Chickens?” Romelle tilts her head. You go to wave it off with your right hand,  _ you don’t have a right hand _ , quickly changing it to your left. 

“You had to be there,” Allura says in agreement with you. 

Dinner thankfully ends shortly after that, and Ulaz follows you like a shadow after you wish the ladies good night. You nearly lose the feeling of him behind you several times. It’s enough to make you pause occasionally to make sure he’s still there. Especially when it feels like there’s another set of eyes following you.

“ **Are we alone?** ” You ask, High Galran rolling off your tongue.

“ **We are.** ” Ulaz’s voice always sounds smoother in Galran. 

“ **It doesn’t feel that way.** ” You admit, trying to see where the eyes are.

“ **There are more people in the castle right now.** ”

“ **Something is following me.** ” You can’t see the eyes. 

“ **I am following you.** ”

“ **Not you. Bigger.** ”

“ **You’re still recovering from your panic attack.** ” He stands closer to you though regardless. 

“What’s that thing you always say?” You look over at him, flipping back over to common. 

“I say many things. You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

“That things exist outside of my body.” You push open your bedroom door. 

“Ah, that saying.” Ulaz chuckles. He closes the door behind him, walking over to one of your shelves. He pulls one of the leather-bound books out and brings it over your desk, making sure to set a pen next to it. 

“Take heed, and leave it be.” He says.

“And do not speak a word of the glimpses you’ve seen.” You sit at the desk.

“That’s it.” Ulaz nods. “Why do you ask?”

“Maybe it’s just one of those things that exist.” You shrug. Opening the book to a blank page. 

“It could be. I’m not that well gifted with Quintessence. Would you like me to open the balcony for you?” He asks.

“Go ahead.” You nod, briefly looking over the previous page. Ulaz opens the door to the balcony and then steps behind you. 

“Good night, My King.” Ulaz bows deeply.

“Good night, Ulaz. Go have your date night with Thace already.” You chuckle.

“Our date night isn’t for another week.” He reminds you with an amused smile.

“Then take him out. I’m sure he’s tired of being cooped up in here.” You mark the blank page with today’s date.

“I would, but I will have to check on Lance again.” Ulaz shrugs.

“Let me know when you go, I would like to go with you.” You tell him. He nods and bows once more and then leaves you for the night. And on the blank pages, you write everything that occurred today, even the moments where you weren’t in control.  _ Especially  _ the moments you weren’t in control. The day can’t be forgotten, memories lost somewhere, if you speak it out loud and scrawl it with your clunky handwriting. You give it life anew this way.

With the day recorded, you finally allow yourself to close the book, and thus close the day as well. You push the balcony door closed, trying to pay no attention to the scrambling sounds of claws against tile above you.  _ Take heed and leave it be _ , you remind yourself as you lay in your bed and pray for sleep to grace you tonight with pleasant dreams instead of nightmares.


End file.
